


A Civilized Age of Culinary Knights

by Lionfire42



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Anime cooking rules, Cooking, Crack, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Family, Fluff and Humor, Happy Ending, Humor, I may or may not have been hungry while writing this, Oneshot, The Force is the ultimate seasoning, The Jedi as Chefs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:00:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29979123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lionfire42/pseuds/Lionfire42
Summary: To be a Jedi was to be the greatest of cooks.OrThe galaxy is saved by the Jedi Order being a legion of foodies.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, CC-5052 | Bly/Aayla Secura, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 54





	A Civilized Age of Culinary Knights

**Author's Note:**

> Watched one episode of Toriko and this is popped up in my brain.

The Force was a concept barely understood at times by its practitioners and definitely not something to be comprehended by the average galactic civilian.

The Force, to most, was synonymous with "Jedi". This in turn meant three things:

A Jedi could do things beyond expectations.

A Jedi carried about a blade of light, that could cut through anything.

And most importantly: a Jedi was the greatest chef to grace wherever they landed.

The barest soups could be made to taste like ambrosia. A simple roast could be perfectly cooked with such balance as to rival the greatest nerfhouses on Coruscant. The most haphazard cakes could make a person weep with joy.

Rival delegations ordered the finest of ingredients when a Jedi came to act as arbiter, their kitchen staffs whispering in awe, humbled by the honor of a Jedi taking command of their workplace and envious with the understanding that nothing they would ever produce could match what the Jedi made that day.

Aides would look upon in longing as their employers took bites that radiated calm, joy, determination and contentment into their very being. A single bite of stew could warm even the iciest of hearts, and even the most belligerent of representatives could find themselves more receptive and open to truly listening and weighing the thoughts and opinions of their opposition.

Like all positions, some Jedi were more sought out and famous than others.

Mace Windu, for example, was famous for his ability to somehow ensure every spice and mineral could be tasted in his meals. And yet not a single one overwhelmed another.

Kit Fisto's sushi rolls were said to make one feel as if they were gliding through crystal waters.

Obi-Wan Kenobi's specialized tea blends were grown, dried and crushed himself, and various combinations could make one instantly calm, euphoric or in one infamous incident, throw the drinkers into throes of orgasmic pleasure. 

(Nearly every strip club in the galaxy had a plan to or had attempted to kidnap him for the recipe.)

Anakin Skywalker's curries could nearly set your tongue alight, but make you feel remarkably cool, even whilst trekking through a desert.

Ahsoka Tano had yet to reach a great level of fame, but her Jedi Chef lineage meant many had their eyes on her and she did not disappoint. Her status as an obligate carnivore who ate their meat raw did not prevent her from developing a multi-spiced multilayered meat and vegetable roll, with each layer compounding the last and leaving one with the distinct sensation of eating lazily in a hammock or the adrenaline of completing a marathon, whichever was needed or wanted. 

These were true masters of the art, whose skill in the Force allowed them to integrate its power into the greatest testament of a sentient species' culture: one's food.

So of course, when war broke out, and a legion of identical men were sent out to fight and die, the Force cried out to the Jedi it's horrors: The pain. The death. The _rations_.

And the Jedi tightened their stain-resistant robes, sharpened their utensils, ignited their lightsabers, honed over thousands of years to slice through durasteel-like animal hides with such precision as to not ruin the meat, and marched behind the army.

To the clones, meal-time became not just a moment of rest: it became a true moment of _life_.

Most of the time, their meals were stews and soups, but even these were better than they could have hoped, because Jedi used ration packs and wildlife and their surroundings to make it something more than just palatable—they made it _good_.

Plo Koon, for example, had the unique ability to take polystarch bread, mix it with various herbs and his own cache of spices, and turn hard lumps with gooey insides into something crusty and flaky and _delectable_. It was a jealously guarded creation by the 104th, and even a stale piece was worth a small fortune on the clone black market outside of the battalion.

(Often, Plo Koon added meats and cheeses inside the rolls and they managed to somehow stay juicy, creamy, and wonderfully filling.)

(Wolffe was found hoarding a bunch that had an especially delectable soft Corellian cheese, and Plo Koon had to step in before the troops caused a mutiny.)

  
  


The 212th enjoyed their collaborations with the 501st, because it meant that whenever there was an opportunity, there would be a feast. Obi-Wan's teas flowed from thermos to thermos, and troops enjoyed forest campaigns, because it meant that, despite the pain fighting in a forest could be, that there was a pretty good chance their plucky togruta friend would bring down some oversized creature and grill it to _perfection_.

Plus, it meant a ton of entertainment because as much as they loved each other and respected each other's skills, Ahsoka and Anakin fought like tookas and kath hounds about the best way to tenderize meat. The first time Anakin dared to substitute her Felucian ginger mix for a Ryloth beer soak, he nearly lost his other hand.

The Jedi infused the Force in every dish they make for their men. Every dish, every treat, every snack the clones ate filled them with the Jedi's love: of food, of life, of _them_. It gave them strength. It gave them inspiration. It gave courage. 

It gave them loyalty.

And when the Supreme Commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, Chancellor Sheev Palpatine, enacts Order 66, attempting to take the Jedi off guard as they spread themselves across the galaxy, always trying to create and share and _help_...the clones hesitate.

Because how can anyone who puts such love in their craft, freely shared, attempt to betray them?

Clones raising their blasters remember the taste of broth and tea and pastry and love and respect and _hope_ on their tongues...and lower them.

The Jedi understand immediately what is happening. It all made sense: The Chancellor's refusal to send better ingredients, the subpar rations, his stringent refusal to partake in Master Yoda's galaxy-famous Dagobah Greens Puffs.

(Dooku hadn't been a fan of them either and everyone knew how he'd turned out: selling out his porg wing sauce recipe to what would become a Separatist bar chain. What a disappointment.)

(It also explained the Chancellor's interest in Anakin and his constant pushing of his "homemade Naboo Delight", which of course Anakin ate, because Jedi or not, one does not tell the leader of the Galactic Republic that his water-sugar ratio is off and is resulting in subpar gelatin.)

The battle that takes place in the Senate Building is legendary. Utensils and lightning fly. Spices burn vigorously. Meat is roasted and broiled and broasted. Vegetables are sliced and diced and minced. 

Clones invade by the hundreds and die in droves to take down the root of their enslavement, while their Jedi friends use their lightsabers to protect them from creatures made rabid and twisted by Sidious' Dark Cooking, all the while feeding them with their greatest dishes. Some Jedi perish as well, pouring all their skill and power and life forces into the last and greatest dishes they will ever make.

(It will take three decades for one side hallway to stop smelling like Fromirian roast queg.)

In the end, Sidious falls, body torn apart by blaster bolts and forks and the sheer hope and determination and love of the Jedi, wrapped around a bite of crab rotovan and forced into the Sith Lord's mouth.

In the years to come, the clones are given citizenship and a few planets and all the honor they deserve. Many Jedi, who found especially awestruck clones who loved them (and their cooking) went with them, and worked to spread their talents to the future generation.

(Bly practically worshipped the ground Aayla Secura (and her Onderonian chocolate beignets) walked on for all his days.)

Anakin used his skills to develop every odd dish under the suns to satisfy his wife's horrific cravings. Eventually, it was all worth it when she delivered their twin children, a boy and a girl.

(By the time Leia is five, she takes one look at Aunt Ahsoka roasting an akul stuffed with spiced Johan fruit and her eyes take on an unsettling gleam. It is an uphill battle from there to keep her away from putting food on open flames.)

Ahsoka's grilling techniques became legendary, and royalty sent her messages for the rest of her days, outlining their platformed grill pits in the hope she may deem them worthy.

Obi-Wan found himself with a commander tagalong, who seemed convinced that Obi-Wan could neither keep hold of his lightsaber, nor keep himself out of trouble.

(It did put a dent in the kidnapping attempts, so that was something.)

In the Council Chambers, Master Yoda continued to wow dozens with his Dagobah Greens Puffs, perfectly sauteed within and flaky on the outside.

And peace reigned.


End file.
